


A Cessation of Demands

by EllieRose101



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 09:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieRose101/pseuds/EllieRose101
Summary: A situation in which things are turned around…





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a hell of a day. Or, well, seeing as hell was an actual thing Buffy had dealt with on days before, a day worse than that. Her brain was too tired to think of a better metaphor. Point was, things were bad. Wayyy bad.

Normally, if Spike told Buffy to come around and see him she wouldn’t. On principal. He needed the reminder that things were on her terms. But this day? She really, _really_ didn’t care about principals.

Barreling in through the door of his crypt so fast it almost smashed against the wall, she had her lips on his within moments; her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She groaned at the contact. Then groaned again – an altogether different kind of sound – when he started pulling away.

“What are you doing?” they said at once, making Buffy glare and hop down off him again.

One second in and he’d already ruined it. _Why? Why on this day of all days?!_ She crossed her arms across her chest, ignoring the feel of her erect nipples through her top.

Spike had taken a deep breath and was obviously readying himself for something. It made Buffy feel even more on edge.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, ignoring the little bit of concern that slipped into the question. It wasn’t like he was in the habit of saying no. She hadn’t thought he was capable.

Not looking at her, he said, “We need to stop, Buffy.”

Buffy did stop. Every thought in her mind shut off in an instant as she stared at him, unable to process what he was saying.

“Buffy?” Spike took a tentative look up then pursed his lips and took a step towards her, waving a hand in her face. “Did you hear me?”

After another long moment, she reached out and smacked his hand away.

“Right, course,” he said, sighing. “You’re probably in shock or whatall. I should explain.”

“Yes,” said Buffy, voice like steel. “You should.” She watched as he began to pace.

He started by saying, “I was talkin’ to Clem,” at which point the muscles in her face pulled even tighter.

“You did WHAT? You told him about us? Oh, god! Who else knows?”

“Now wait,” said Spike, raising his hands pleadingly, “It ain’t like that. It’s just him, and he’s not one for passin’ on secrets.”

“But why would you–”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he shot back, voice suddenly raised. “It’s not a dirty secret to me, is it? And why can’t I have something? Did you ever consider that I might need–” he stopped, shaking himself in a whole body shudder.

“Go on,” said Buffy, “Tell me more about what you _need_.” There was murder in her voice and she didn’t give a damn.

“Nothing,” said Spike, softly now. “It doesn’t matter. That’s actually kinda the point.”

Buffy frowned, intrigued despite herself. “What does that mean?”

“It means… look, I planned out how to say this, okay? Would you just let me–”

Buffy waved him on, the movement more sharp than inviting. “Go ahead, give me your speech. I’m so in need of someone telling me where things are going wrong in my life.”

“Just stop, would you? _Please_?”

He sounded pained when he said it and she grudgingly resolved herself to hear him out. She gestured a second time for him to continue.

“I was talking to Clem,” he repeated. “Was ranting at him, truth be told.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. She didn’t doubt that Spike probably had prepared something to say, but she guessed that bit was ad-libbed. He couldn’t help but interrupt even himself. _Annoying vampire._

“I just kept goin’ on and on about yer mates, an’ how they treat you. How they _don’t_ treat you.”

Okay, that took and unexpected turn, but this was Spike, the unexpected should always be expected with him. Giving him a wary look, Buffy decided to him an extra minute to explain. The desire to interrupt and ask questions – to rant at _him_ – was almost overwhelming, but she reined it in, wanting to see where he was going with this.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I went from ranting about them to ranting about you.”

_Okay_, thought Buffy, fighting down a resurgence of her irritation.

“And then Clem goes and says the damnedest thing.” Spike paused to laugh. Actually laugh. Man, did she want to sock him one!

“Because I was ranting about them, see? For expecting too much from you, and not giving you what you need, and I’m wanderin’ about like a wanker, tellin’ you it’s not right, but then I’m forcing you, init? I tell you don’t have to take the shit they give you – all the pressure, weight-on-your-shoulders tripe – when I’ve been shovin’ you towards telling them stuff you’re not even admittin’ in your own head. Clem pointed it out and it’s like I was seein’ it for the first time. Bloody thick, I’ve been.”

He stopped again, his eyes refocusing on her, the rest of his expression expectant. Buffy had no idea what the hell he expected, but it was something. What was she supposed to say to any of it?”

“So,” said Spike, almost making her roll her eyes again. He could never put up with silences. Ever. “That’s it,” he finished.

“That’s it?” Buffy repeated, blinking.

“Well, yeah?” for a moment he had actually looked proud of himself for getting it all out, but then his expression faltered to something much more uncertain.

After silence fell back between them and she could see him start itching to babble his way through it again, she went first and said, “What are you telling me, exactly?”

His face fell. Completely. Buffy felt a little bad about that, but what did he expect? Sure he’d said some stuff. It mostly made sense. But now what? If he was expecting her to know the answer it would be just too hypocritical for words.

“Tell me you understand?” he said, desperation in his voice. When she still didn't say anything he pressed, “Tell me you can see why I’m doing it?”

And then it hit her. Two tons of bricks, right in the chest.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, feeling at a loss for air. “You’re breaking up with me? I mean, _you_ are breaking up with _me_? How is this happening? If this is a joke you’re not gonna live past the punch line, I swear.”

She expected him to start yelling and telling her to quit being such a bitch, but instead he smiled a little to himself – a sad, exhausted smile – and said, “It’s not breaking up if it wasn’t a real relationship.”

Buffy’s jaw clamped shut on the next batch of bile she had been storing up to throw at him. It burned her throat but she swallowed it down, glaring daggers instead. It clearly got the message across well enough. Spike’s ever-changing expression became one of great concern. _Good_, she thought,_ he should be concerned. He should see how he likes it!_

After another unquantifiable length of time, in which she hadn’t trusted herself to open her mouth, he was at it again with the words.

“Buffy, love?” he said, a double batch of wariness in his eyes and voice. “Are you gonna stake me for this?”

She didn’t stake him. She took a step forward and slapped him instead. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you _dare_ stand there and try and make light of this!”

“What else can I do?” he asked, the earnestness behind his words infuriating her further.

“Just stop, okay? Just stop!”

“Well, that’s what–”

“No! I said stop it. Stop talking!”

His eyes hardened. “Buffy–”

“No! You’re doing it again. Even now, you’re looking at me like I should be doing or saying something, but this is all your stuff. Why do I have to be the one to process it?”

He paused, frowning, as if seriously considering it.

“I mean what the hell, Spike? What do you want from me?”

“I want _you_,” he said, hard passion returning to his voice. “Full stop. End of bloody story. But, failing that, I…” he swallowed, “I just want you to be happy.”

“Well, fuck you!”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Everyone wants Buffy to be _happy_,” she spat, beginning to pace and gesticulate wildly with her hands. “But no one’s willing to give Buffy the things she needs to actually make her happy!” she turned her furious glare back on him, pinning him to the ground where he stood.

“And what’s that?” he dared to ask, his voice cautious.

“How the hell should I know?! Just let me figure it the hell out!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” said Spike. “Yeah, I’m mucking it up, but I’m bloody _trying_!”

“Good for you!” she sneered. “You’re _trying_. What do you want, a medal? You think I should pat you on the back when you don’t drink from dying disaster victims, and should stand here grateful when you do this to me?”

He turned his face away. “No.”

He didn’t want to look at her? Well, fine! She didn’t need this shit. She stormed out the door, slamming it behind her and hearing part of it crack first off the wall and then the floor. Then, a moment later, she turned on her heel and stormed back, ready to yell at Spike all over again. What she heard when she got back to the door, however, made her pause.

He was – _god!_ – he was crying. Not even quiet, dignified cries, either. He was almost in a coughing fit with the tears.

Buffy felt her chest tighten as her feet rooted to the spot. Why did he always have to do that? Get her all mad and convinced he wasn't worth it, and then go do something to remind her that– what? She shook her head, not wanting to finish the thought.

Inside the crypt, the cries got louder. Part of Buffy was jealous that he could just let go like that. If she wept like she wanted to, there would be bloody intervention. And _ugh!_ She hated when her internal monolog used Spike-words.

Heaving a deep breath, she pushed open the door and saw his eyes ignite on hers the second she was back in sight. The unearthly noise coming from him halted just as suddenly. He was obviously waiting for her to do or say something. That almost made her angry again, but she took another breath. It wasn’t his fault and she knew that. She did. He just… god, he looked so pitiful. Like the time he’d almost got himself killed to protect Dawn’s secret.

The memory pulled at Buffy and, slowly, she walked over to him, her lips shaking with all the things she couldn’t say. For an eternity, there was everything and nothing between them.

Then she leaned down, kissed his forehead and said, “Thank you, William.”

Another tear ran down his cheek at the name.


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy walked home slowly, her thoughts weighing heavily on her. She wanted so badly to shove them off, dig a hole and cover them in, but she didn’t think she could get away with that anymore. Spike – her only real source of solace – had said no, removing any chance of escape from reality.

That meant she had to face it. She had to go back to her house, which had been feeling increasingly less like a home, lately, and she had to deal with all the reasons why that was.

Willow was becoming a major issue and something had to be done about it. Though, Buffy really didn't know what. Maybe she should call Giles. No, _definitely_ she should call him. But would he come through? Would he help Willow when he’d walked away from Buffy? Honestly, she didn’t know. Once upon a time she would have been so sure he’d never let her down, but then…

She missed him so much it hurt, but she was still angry. How could he have just left? Again! Buffy’s heart ached almost as much as her head. She tried to avoid thinking of specifics and instead made a mental list of everything she needed to process, which was basically a list of the people around her and their associated issues – Dawn, Willow, Giles, Buffy’s mom, Spike.

Spike. _God! _Where did she even begin with him? Buffy shook her head. If she sorted everything else, she had a feeling he’d be right there waiting for her. She hoped, anyway.

He really was trying, and she believed him when he said he wanted her to be happy; that he’d support her in pursuing whatever it was that made her so. But what was it? Guiltily, she feared she already knew, and had done so for some time.

She shook her head again, reminding herself it didn’t matter. He was end of the list, Buffy had decided. First things first, she would talk to Dawn. _Really_ talk to her. Spike would want that. He wouldn’t mind being at the end if Dawn was first, because – Buffy swallowed – because he was… No. It wasn’t time for those kind of thoughts. How could she keep forgetting?

When the moment had settled following her action of kissing Spike, Buffy’s courage had fled and she’d followed it right back out the door, leaving him there, no doubt blinking after her.

She really hoped he wasn’t crying again.

Again, the urge for Buffy to cry returned, and she decided she would let it come, just not yet. That would be the grieving for her mother portion of the list.

It had been– wait. Had it been a year? That couldn’t be right. Hand rubbing at her eyes, it took Buffy too long to remember what day it was and then count back the months. She got to about September and couldn’t count anymore.

That was fine, Buffy told herself, she didn’t need to really deal with it until after she’d talked to Dawn and made sure she was okay.

Walking up the step to her front door and entering the house, Buffy found her sister on the couch.

Dawn looked up and rolled her eyes towards the clock before switching off the TV and going to stand up.

“No,” said Buffy. “Wait. Do you wanna hang out?”

Dawn gave her a look in answer, as if she thought Buffy might be playing with her.

“Is Willow home?” Buffy asked to keep things moving forward.

“No,” said Dawn in a sigh.

Buffy nodded, biting her lip. “Have you eaten?” When Dawn glared at her she carried on to say she was thinking of getting pizza, if she wanted to share.

Her sister’s face softened at the addition. “You’re eating?”

“Why do sound surprised?”

“Nothing,” said Dawn, too quickly. “Nevermind.”

Buffy took a breath. “Okay, so, anchovies?”

Dawn nodded her assent, her features softer still.

“Great,” Buffy chirped, before letting her shoulders slump and releasing a groan. “Ugh,” she said, tossing the phone to Dawn, “Actually? You do it. I need to sit.”

Practically throwing herself down on the couch, Buffy saw a wary look cross Dawn’s face. “I still wanna eat, and I’m paying, don’t worry,” she said. “Just make the call? Buffy is tired.”

Suddenly, Dawn’s face opened in a grin. It made Buffy super defensive.

“What?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” Dawn said again. “It’s just…” she twisted her lips to the side as if thinking. “I think that’s, like, the first real thing you’ve said to me since…” she trailed off, the grin segueing into a look of guilt at having eluded to all the bad things that have happened.

“Yeah,” said Buffy. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Dawn curled into her side and squeezed their bodies together in a hug before pulling back, another new expression on her face.

“Huh,” she said.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Huh what?”

Dawn began to say ‘nothing’ again but stopped, mid-way through the word, at Buffy’s look. Plainly, then, she said, “You smell like Spike.”

“Oh.” Buffy hung her head as she felt blood rush into her cheeks. Dawn was frowning when she found the courage to look up at her again.

“He – you…” she stammered, not able to find the right words. “Are you?”

After another deep breath, Buffy said, “Kinda. It’s… complicated.”

Dawn’s eyes went wide and she blinked them before they became narrowed, pinning her sister to the spot. “Don’t,” she said.

At first, Buffy thought Dawn was warning her off doing anything else with Spike, but finally the truth sank in. “I’m not brushing off your question,” she said. “It just really is complicated. We can talk about it, though. Honestly? I think I probably should get it all out.”

“Huh,” said Dawn again, her eyes scanning over Buffy’s face before she smiled again. “Okay.”

Buffy returned the smile, weakly. She would eat, talk to Dawn, and then call Giles in the morning. Beyond that? She was still figuring things out.


	3. Chapter 3

Giles didn’t come back like Buffy hoped, but he did send for Willow to go stay with him in England for a bit; to retrain her in mystical ethics or whatever. It took a lot of convincing, but she eventually went on the understanding that getting better was the only way she and Tara ever had a chance of getting back together.

To say Buffy was relieved at the result was an understatement. The atmosphere in her house had already improved tenfold. Plus, it made what she was about to do so much easier. Less chance of being ganged up on…

“Buffster! What brings you by?” The smile froze on Xander’s face as his eyes widened. “There’s not another apocalypse, is there?”

She tried to give him her best reassuring smile, but she wasn’t all that invested in it. “Not the end of the world per se, but it might feel like it when you’ve heard me out.”

Xander patted the space on the bench beside him. He’d only half finished sanding it. “I’m all ears. Consider me your multi-eared local carpenter.”

Buffy took a deep breath and jumped right in. “Dawn said that Tara overheard Anya and you plotting to try and set me up with someone.”

Xander’s jaw slacked and he looked around. “Look, Buffy, I know it's been a while, but he’s a really nice guy. I’ll introduce you.”

“No.”

He waggled a finger at her. “I’m missing something here, aren’t I?”

Another deep breath. Three. Two… And exhale. This was it. “I’ve been sleeping with Spike.”

Xander took a long hard blink. “You… huh?”

\---

_It would be okay. Enough time has passed, and I’ve begun to heal. I can do this. _

Buffy hoped her inner pep talk was right. She had a feeling that, either way, it was already too late to back out. Stood right beside Spike’s crypt door, she had a fair idea he’d sensed her presence.

So she knocked.

And she waited.

And she knocked again, frowning. Surely he wasn’t ignoring her? Not that she’d blame him.

“Spike?”

Her feet were getting itchy. If this was the suspense that came with being considerate, she might just go back to barging in and switch to apologizing after the fact instead. That would be enough of a change, right?

“Spike?” Buffy called again, hating the desperation in her voice. She couldn’t risk letting the doubts creep in. They almost killed her last time.

Reaching for the handle, she held back at the last moment.

As much as it might kill her to go back to the uncertain place with Spike, it wasn’t fair for her to take him to the other place. The bad place. The – _ugh! I can’t do this. _

“Buffy?”

Just as she was about to turn and walk away, a voice came out of the bushes off to her left. She turned to face it.

“Clem?”

The Slayer’s eyes focused on him as he emerged into the clearing before her. Those eyes then moved along to who was with him, and then down to the damp earth at their feet.

“Buffy!” Clem said again. “Hey, good to see you! How ya been?”

“Uh, good,” she replied, cringing at her favorite shoes. They were covered in mud _again_. “I’m better,” she added, forcing herself to look up. Rallying her bravery some more, she gave Spike what she hoped was a significant look on the word ‘better.’

The tentative smile on his face made her cheeks burn, and she hurried on with the conversation.

“So, uh, my birthday,” she said.

“Next week, init,” said Spike, surprising her.

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “You, umm, wanna come?” Quickly, before he had time to answer or she had time to run away, she added, “As my date?”

Spike was silent – his face awash with warring emotions. Clem looked back and forth between him and Buffy, which reminded her that he existed.

“You too,” she said. “I mean, you should come too. As a… uh, non-date.” God, was there a mystical heatwave coming in over town again? Buffy fidgeted in her jacket.

“Cool,” said Clem, giving her a thumbs up, before looking back at Spike. “Hey,” he nudged him in the ribs. “Ain’t that cool?”

“Cool, yeah,” Spike agreed, as if on autopilot. His eyes hadn’t left Buffy’s. After another moment, they unfogged and he told her, “Thanks.”

That one word shouldn’t have had such an impact, but the way he said it, she almost swooned.

She could do this. It was all gonna be okay.


End file.
